


To Have Faith

by 1V1



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, Immortality, Magic, Pining, Tragic Romance, Unrequited Love, divine worship, priestess - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1V1/pseuds/1V1
Summary: You were once a human girl, lost in the woods during a snowstorm. Making an offering at a shrine the forsaken god comes to your aid, saving your life, and making you owe it to him in return. You grow older, and ones day your god decides you will be his priestess, his only devout.A story of reader's life as Loki's priestess, and how she loves the man all other would give up on.(Tag is due to attempt- nothing is graphic)





	To Have Faith

You met him as a child. Bare faced and young. It was wintertime, the snow blankets deep and the paths covered. You had fallen behind your family on the way home from the market, and gotten lost in the white. The cold was beginning to seep into your bones, and panic filled you. You would die without shelter, and even knowing that you could not be so far from your family, your home, with the winter storm upon you hope was lost.

Your fate left you alone, save for a small stone structure, runes carved crudely into the rock. It is not a shrine to the gods, but to one god. The one that you make offerings too but ask nothing from. The shrine had old blood on it, but from a time long before you likely had been born. No one kept that shrine to fire and chaos. No one had made an offering. Yet you were desperate, alone and cold. A god, even a trickster one was still a god, and you would at the least hope he would not slay you himself.

You pulled off your gloves, biting your finger and tracing his name in the runes.  
“Please,” You whisper, breath leaving clouds of fine mist, “help me.” 

Years later, he will say it was not magic that let him find you but luck. His curiosity to see if any mortal had made an offering to his shrine. Yet it was where he found you, a girl child, not even reaching his hip, offering her blood for aid. You asked something of him. A thing no sane mortal would do.   
“You wish for my help?” He asked, breaking the silence of the snowfall. You jumped, spinning and landing in the cold, the god’s eyes alight with mischief he was known for.  
“It’s not wise to ask a god like me for help.” You are cold and afraid, yet you have made your offering, you have made your request. Honor is thick in your blood, and you did not recant.   
“I’m lost and cold.”  
“I can see that.” He moved to half sit on his own shrine, youthful arrogance over his face. You were too young to see him as anything but a god to be feared.   
“Please- I don’t want to die.” Your shaking arms wrapped tightly around you.   
Loki smiled to himself, and like many things he will tell you why in the distant future.  
“You paid in blood I see.” He remarked, your red lines over the runes under him, and yet he didn’t seem to care.  
“Please-“ Green eyes twinkle, and he offered you a hand.  
“If I save your life, that means it belongs to me.” You’re a child, and can only think he means to take you as a slave. Tears began to run down your face, but you accepted it. To be the slave of a god is better than to die a shameful death. You took his hand and he picked you up, carrying you in his arms; “Rest little one.” You felt warmth return to your limbs and sleep took you, the sound of snow crunching under his boots the last thing you heard.

When you woke, you were at the door of your family’s longhouse. They are there and open the door with joy, tears running down their faces. They thought they lost you.   
You felt the cut on your thumb, and you wondered if they had.

*** 

Years pass, and you grow into a young woman. Perhaps it is out of gratitude or fear of his anger should you seem ungrateful, but you visited Loki’s shrine every month. Alone, you brought flowers and herbs, as a child. In time, you brought the hearts of small animals you have caught in your traps. You are 12 summers old when you wove a blanket, and your mother asked who it is for. You told her it is for you, which is not a lie. It was for you, so you may make an offering to the god who you owe your life. It was the first item you have made you have felt proud of, felt a worthy offering to a god.  
You left it on the worn stone, tracing your fingers over his name, your blood now dried and deep in the grey. When you returned a month later, the blanket was gone, and in it’s place a dagger made of obsidian, it’s hilt soft leather and gold metal. You kept it hidden, never showing it to anyone.

That winter your father talked of the men in the village, of you being a woman soon. You scoffed, you had not begun to bleed, your breasts were not yet full. It is one of the men he speaks of that grabs you late at night and draged you to the deep wood, where there is only darkness. Your dagger was in your hand, and it reached his heart before you realize what you have done. His body was left to the wolves, and you passed his shrine as you run home. The dagger, covered in blood is left at his altar. The next day when the man’s mangled half eaten body was found, the villagers follow the blood, seeing it end at the shrine to fire and chaos. The dagger was gone, and no one is wiser.

*** 

You are 15, and a year has past since you began to bleed. Your father talked of marriage often, but you do not encourage him. Men asked for you to walk with them, but you do not. Men showed off their strength at gatherings and you only flinched away from them as they reek of sweat and ale. You have kept going to his shrine, placing your offerings. Since the night where you took a man’s life, and the dagger vanished, you always found the shrine empty when you return the next month. You wondered if it was him, but you did not think so. Since the shrine’s discovery, the villagers avoided it, but they knew, and you had to become more secretive.

When it is fall you left an acorn along with a loaf of bread that you baked. You gathered the seeds, ground them to flour. It is filled with berries and is sweet. When you returned the next month, winter’s chill coming, a single gold acorn sat on the altar. In the shell was your name in runes. The script was small, but you made it out. You kept it safe and secret, admiring it’s glow and luster at night under the stars. What worth is a golden acorn from a god? You did not know, but you kept it all the same. It was not the last golden nut to appear. For the next two years, each month you found your offering gone, a golden acorn in it’s place. They did not rot, they smelled of earth and the wild wood. You kept them under the fir tree, buried in a small box lined with wool and seal skin.

In those two years men had come trying to ask your father for you, proving themselves with their hunts and with their trades. Yet your father would ask you and each time you refused. It angered him and your mother, but then you made them swear they would not force you, for you told them if they did, you would flee from them. At 17, your father could not stall any longer. You were a grown woman, and you had to find a husband. He chose one for you, your mother had given her approval. It was the brother of the man to killed, and you blanched at the thought of being his wife. He came to kiss you and you screamed, hitting with all the fury of your warrior blood. Your father was furious, and demanded you swear yourself to the suitor. But you refused, you told them your life belonged to another, your life belonged to a god.

Whore, they called you. Liar they screamed. They cast you out of their home. You had lost your family, and the man said he would not take you as a wife. His servant perhaps, but not a wife. You knew what he wanted and swore not to give it to him. You dug up your little box of golden acorns, fleeing into the woods. His shrine was as you had left it, another acorn waiting. You wrapped your cloak around you and lay at his altar, praying that he will show you mercy, that he will finally take your life. For what life was there you thought, for a woman with nothing?

You woke to his laughter, calling out your name.  
“You’ve grown little one.” He was not as you remember him. He was a man now in your eyes. More than just a god to be feared. He was handsome, and the thought made you fear him more than before. There were tales of his seductions, of his tricks and lies. Your life you owed him, nothing more. You refused to allow yourself to be charmed by chaos incarnate. “And I see you have kept my gifts.” He reached for your box of acorns and grinned when he saw them.   
“I take it that if you are here, your village is no more?” You shook you head and told him what had happened. Of your father and mother wishing to marry you off. The man and his brother, the reveal that your life was his.   
“I watched you grow.” He said, sitting beside you on the earth. “You were such a scant little thing. The dagger was to keep you safe. I saw how the men in the village looked at you even then. Vermin, perverse beings who wanted what was not theirs to take.” His hand was cold, and you shivered under his touch. “It kept you safe, I kept you safe. Your life does belong to me after all.” He is looking at you, grinning.   
“You’ve been a loyal follower, refusing men, staying strong and healthy. Your offerings have been sweet.” He laughed, and the sound echoed in the wood. It was joyful, pleasing even. Nothing to hint that he was as dangerous as any wild beast. “I did like the nut loaf you baked me.” His fingers drummed over the tiny chest as he hummed to himself.

“I must admit, I am not sure what to do with you know.”  
“What?” You were afraid again. You were alone, and the cold of winter was creeping into the land once more.   
“I have never had a loyal follower, someone devoted to me.” He stood. “Do you know what these are?” He pulled out one of the acorns and you shook your head.  
“Magic, far more powerful than mine. I planned to have you hold onto them for me for something else but now, I am wondering if there is a better use.” Years later, he would tell you he planned to use them to make a potion that would have granted him near infinite strength. But he had chosen a different course.  
“Come little one.” He held his hand out to you, and you thought back to when you had been a child. Yet like when you had been a child, you took his hand, and found yourself lifted into his arms. “Sleep little one.” He whispered. “Your god will take care of you.”

As you opened your eyes, you gasped at what you saw. The walls were of stone and the wood was finely polished and smooth. It was a rich man’s home, and the bed you lay in was soft with ample furs. Loki stood in the door, and you smiled at him. He had taken you someplace safe, and had done as he said he would.   
“I’ve made my decision.” His boots echoed on the wood floor as he came to stand beside you, a small baked disk in his hand. “You’re life belongs to me, and I’ve decided how it will be used. You my dear, will become my priestess.” His smile was wicked, and all pleasant feelings left you then. You knew of no temple he had, nothing more than his lost shrine.   
“I will raise a temple in my name, arm it with magic, and you?” He set the disk in your hand, and the sweet nutty aroma filled your nose. “You will tend to it, my beautiful virgin priestess. Now eat, and accept your new duty.”   
You did not disobey the god.

The disk was sweet as you thought it to be, but as soon as you finished it, you felt tired and looked to him, confused.   
“Don’t panic, that’s just the magic working.” He grinned. “You shouldn’t have trusted me.” You slept, and dreamed of his laughter.

*** 

It was two years after he had taken you from the shrine and fed you the cake made from Idunn’s apples when he came to you again. You no longer felt pain like mortals, you were stronger than any man, and you did not fear the wars that waged around your temple. Yet he never came to you in those years. You only knew he watched, as each night as you laid the offerings they would be gone by morning.

Carved from the very side of the mountain, its halls were marble, gold metal lined the dark wood furniture. He designed it all, filled it with his magic. Steel armors, hollow and filled with green fire stood at the main doors, guards who no mortal man could best. They had protected you and the temple. At 19, you are a woman fully grown, and men and women come to the temple of fire and chaos to make offering. They ask for nothing, but you offer them kind words and shelter from storms.   
Priests of Odin came and called you whore, they claimed you were a liar and not to be trusted. But Odin’s men turned away the women heavy with babes and lacking a husband. Odin’s men cast out children deformed and weak. Odin’s men called for blood and battle. You only asked for prayers and thanks. 

Your god was of fire and chaos. He could save with his warmth or destroy in his wrath. Back then, you had not spoken for him, only yourself. You did not want to speak for him, to tell lies of him and his wants. You didn’t know them, and could not do more than keep vigil over his altar, placing the flowers you were so fond of on the stone.

*** 

When you reached you twentieth spring you went to the wedding of a local girl. She was your age, her first husband fallen and taken to Valhalla. Her new husband had lost his first wife in childbirth. They did not know you when they asked for a blessing. They thought you a priestess of Freya, your dress of gold and green. Your beauty apparent to all but yourself. You were happy and joyful at the celebration, and placing a hand over the woman’s womb, you blessed that her child would never feel cold, that they will know the truth of their parents love.

That night, your god arrived, expression not the mischievous one you knew, but a somber one, one of dark ire that made your fear rise. He was known for his temper, yet never had you seen it.  
“You blessed an unborn child.” He hissed. You could only nod. You never lied to him, nor would you ever. “Do you understand what you have done? You are not a mortal human anymore, your words-“ He reached out and grabbed your hand, and as he did so tendrils of green and gold dances over your skin.  
“Your words carry power, my power. Do not use it so foolishly.” He let your hand go and you could see his entire frame shudder.  
“One day, that child will be your responsibility. In the meantime, ready this place. Soon, I intend to have guests.”

*** 

A year passed. It was spring again, and women who came to make offerings gossiped of men and love. You had never been with a man, never known a man’s tender touch. Men had fancied you, but you were Loki’s priestess. Virgin, no man would seek you for fear of your vengeful god. Nor, would you have been unfaithful. If your god wanted you to find love, surely you had told yourself, surely he would find a man worthy for you? The child you blessed had been born, and you heard nothing else.

At night, after the faithful had left you went to his altar. Your only kisses had been stolen from you by greedy men who lusted. You had never given your kiss before. Yet that night, lonely and morose, you offered a kiss to the stone.   
You had not known he watched you, and had almost gone to take another.

*** 

Two more years passed and still your god did not return. No guests to be had save for the faithful. Yet you remained loyal. You remained steadfast. In the dead of winter he came to you, dressed in dark leathers and furs, he looked every inch a regal god.  
“Come, my father wishes to see you.”  
Odin was as terrifying as you imagined him to be. His one eye stared down at you and you felt uneasy in his presence.  
“So this is the girl?”  
“It is.” Loki looked clam, eerily so, and you leaned close to him as you stood by his side.  
Odin stared at you more, watching you squirm under his gaze. “Girl.” He started. “Do you know what my son had done to you?” You did not in truth, you only had a guess.  
“He gave me Idunn’s apples. His magic is in me. I-“ Odin looked increasingly irate. “I know not how, only that he is my god, and I am his priestess.” Odin was scowling at Loki you realized, and yet your god smiled, as if he’d won some game.  
“And this is a temple, a temple to him?”  
“It is Allfather.” He walked forward to you and reached down, pulling your hand into his own.  
“And why does a young woman offer herself in service to my son? What lies and tricks did he commit upon you that demands your obedience?” You pulled your hand back and stepped into Loki’s side.

“He told me no lies and played no tricks. I was lost in the snow, cold and afraid. He came to me, and saved me from a slow death.” Odin looked to his son again, before he nodded.  
“Very well.” A boom echoed as he slammed his staff into the stone floor.  
“Loki, do not make me regret this.” The Allfather turned and left the temple then, leaving you alone with your god.

“Your loyalty is charming.” His words were sweet, and his touch was gentle. His fingers ran over your hair and to the ties of your braid.  
“Odin thought I having a temple would be harmful to the mortals, that I might have been up to something.” You smiled at your god.  
“If you are my lord, I would not stop you, this is your domain. I am here only to tend to it.” He laughed and spun you around, a mockery of a dance.   
“You are so much better than a simple joke I could have played upon Thor. Speaking of, if that oaf ever comes here, do not entice him.” His words had gone from playful to serious is seconds.  
“My brother is coveting, and a pretty thing as yourself would catch his eye far quicker than I’d like.” Your alarm at the arrival of the third god was only over written by his statement.

“You-“ He was a god of lies, “-you find me pretty?” Loki freezed and looked at you like you were something strange. Yet the look vanished and he replied.  
“No.” He leaves you again, your heart hurt and tears falling into bedding that night. You did not know what heartbreak felt like. You did not know that the truth was that he found you beautiful, and he resented you for it.

*** 

Two months after the Allfather’s visit, Thor arrived. He was loud and stood at the temple doors, demanding to be let in to see Loki’s den and his ‘so called priestess’. Your mistake was letting him in. He immediately began to talk of the well kept temple, and how you tended it so well, but it was far to opulent for Loki, far too good for a trickster like him. Had you ever been to one of his temples? No? Let him take you, you will love it, it was much better than Loki’s.  
You refused, politely of course. You were Loki’s priestess, you would not leave his temple without true cause. Thor only relented after some time, and demanded food and drink before he left. Your second mistake had been to serve him, because as soon as he was done, he had grabbed your arm, demanding your service him as you did Loki.

When you told Thor Loki had never asked such a thing of you, he called you a liar, telling you he was a better lover. He would even bless you with a child if you liked. You did not, and the more you fought him, the more insistent Thor became. Ale soured his breath and his lust would not be deterred. Fear that you had not felt for years came to the fore and you called out for your god.  
Thor kissed you as Loki arrived.   
Loki yelled and swore as you felt to the altar weeping on the stone. You had disobeyed your god twice over, and he had come to punish you. You had allowed Thor to touch you, to kiss you. You should have fled. Should have turned him away. 

When Loki came to find you he said nothing, his only action to place the dagger he’d once left at the shrine for you by your side. 

It would be five more years before another god would grace the temple.

*** 

When Frigga arrived you did not know her. She dressed as a common woman, and smiled politely. She made an offering of a book to the altar, and stayed until all other had left before nightfall. It was only when you were alone did she tell you who she was.

“Child,” she called you, “you must think us very unkind.” She spoke to you of your god. Of his brother Thor and her husband the Allfather. Loki had stolen the golden acorns, the ‘apples’. Odin had been furious, and almost exiled Loki for the act, yet when he regaled the story of the mortal girl he saved and watched over, Frigga bade Odin to meet you. And Odin had found you-  
“You must understand, my husband was ready to kill you. He sought to punish Loki, but he saw something in you, something good. He thought you worthy of the blessing.” Frigga told you your new gifts, your powers. You were nigh immortal now. You had wished it to be untrue in a way. To still be normal, human. But years had passed and you did not age. Frigga’s truth made the reality of your immortality come to be known. 

“Child,” Her hands were soft and gentle, and she smiled at you like any mother would, “my son is many things, and he will test your resolve. If you leave him, no one will fault you. Your mortal life would have ended in thirty years or so, and after such a time, your oath would be filled. You can always walk away from this. I love Loki, but even I know he drives many away and is cruel.” You looked at Frigga and felt she was wrong. Your god have saved you when he could have ben cruel. Your god could have left you defenseless when men lusted for you. Your god could have abandoned you when you were cast out. You failed him, and yet he did not punish you, only gave you a way to defend yourself.  
“Will all due respect Allmother,” You said, “he is my god and I owe him more than one life now.” Frigga smiled to you, leaving you in the temple alone.

You missed your god, and dreamed of his laughter.

*** 

That winter, the child you blessed was grown and alone. His mother and father dying of cold and starvation. His village was barren and none would take him in. You did. You recalled Loki’s words, that one day he would be your responsibility.  
The boy’s name was Fen, and for the next 11 years you raised him as if he were your son.

*** 

Fen was 19 when he met your god. You however, had not aged a day.

Loki, to his credit had not been surprised but rather pleased. Fen had become loyal to your god in his own way. Traveling and using his wit rather than his strength. Fen was a grown man, he was your adopted son. He was told by Loki to take a wife. A woman with flame red hair in a distant village. She would be good for him. Fen obeyed as any devout, but when you looked at your god, you saw something in him you had never seen before. Sadness.

One day, he’d tell you it was because in watching you raise the boy, he’d grown fond of him. If he had stayed, he would have been enlisted to go on a expedition west that would have led to his death. The day Loki would tell you this would be the day you came to learn that Fen lived a long life, his wife blessing him with children. His descendants happy and proud. After that, you would smile at the SHEILD agent when you saw him. But that would be many years away.

Back then, you only mourned the loss of the man you thought of as a son.

*** 

Loki’s visits became more frequent as time progressed. They were overall, just drop ins and check ups. He asked of what had happened, and you would tell him stories of the mortals come to pay their respects. You learned more of him in that time. How he loved a good prank. His enjoyment of song. His favorite color was a tie between green and gold. He could create copies of himself, change his shape, cast vast illusions- he was a master of magic. Eventually, he had an Asgardian come to you, teaching you to read and write. To speak allspeak, to know the truths of the nine realms. To become a woman more than worthy for the title of head priestess.

But the years were lonely. You had no other loyal followers. Some attempted, but left soon enough. You wished for love, yet no man ever made your heart beat. You wanted to have a child, but without a lover, you remained barren. You never asked such things of him. Never told him how you dreamed of his smile and laughter. You were his priestess, and that had to be good enough. You did not think yourself worthy enough for a god’s affections, let alone love.

*** 

Eventually, time passed quickly, and you stopped counting the years. The faithful began to become less and less. A religion and faith called Christianity reached your ears. Empires of the south attempted to venture north. Wars raged. Kings and Queens rose and fell. Yet you carried on in Loki’s temple. Ever faithful, ever loyal, ever making your daily offering of a single flower for your god.

*** 

It is 1165. Kings were falling like flies and he came to you, smiling as he always did.  
“It is time for a change.” He said. “The old ways are dead. You know it.” You smiled at him, not saying he was right. “So, I have a new task for you,” He smirked and taps your forehead. “Explore. I can’t visit Midgard as much as I like anymore, so I want you to explore it for me. But-“ He motioned to the temple.  
“Every 30 years return here. I will meet you on the shortest day and longest night. You’ll tell me everything, understand?”

You frowned and asked him, “What of your temple? Who will keep it? Make offerings?” He laughed, and the sound made your smile.   
“The magic will keep it hidden, as for offerings-“ Loki shrugged. “Consider your adventure offerings. Your stories are what I want.” 

That night, you cleaned the temple one last time. He gifts you green cloak, and you feel the magic woven into the wool. As you departed you watched your god vanish in a pillar of light before the doors of the temple closed, magic sealing them and hiding them under an illusion of stone.

You wondered if you would find love in your adventures.   
You do not bet on it.

*** 

Clockwork. You travel by horse and boat. By foot or cart. There is a change in humanity, a shift you cannot place. New invention rise and so do kingdoms. They fall just as quickly. Your strength fended off men, your immortality kept ills and pains far from you. Money was not to be feared, for you gained it quickly, the magic of the cloak filling the pockets with as much gold as you needed.

Allspeak allowed you to understand and allowed you to learn. You never did find someone who made your heart beat, who drew your desire. You say it because none are worthy. It is the first lie you make yourself believe.   
Soon enough 30 years have passed and you wait for your god at his temple. He does not appear. You leave his temple once more, afraid for him, missing his smile and laughter. You promised to come back in 30 years once again.

30 more years pass, and your god did not arrive. The magic in the cloak remained strong. You knew he was still alive.   
Another 30 years, and Loki’s absence is felt.  
After 200 years, you stoped visiting the temple. Only venturing back to check if he ever returned. Yet you never see a sign he did.

*** 

The year is 1856. You have heard of a new country across the sea. A colony broken from England’s empire, the audacity to stand against the kingdom amusing you. The boat ride is long but when you arrive to the new country, you smile. It is in chaos. Young, wild- You feel a glimmer of happiness there.  
The temple had been untouched for over 300 years.  
Loki’s dagger rests at your hip, and his cloak on your shoulders.  
There is magic in them still.\

*** 

1984\. America had proven to leave a sour taste in your mouth. You had left it several times. Visiting the temple every five years or so just to escape. Loki’s absence is always there however, so you never stayed long.  
Still, the country is a place you tolerated, and something kept drawing you there. You did not know why.

*** 

2011\. His magic called to you like a siren, but by the time you arrived in New Mexico, you only see his brother for a moment, taken away by the pillar of light you know as the Bifrost.

Later that day, you met the woman who Thor was in the company of. Her name is Jane Foster. She was in love with Thor, and you couldn’t help but think to the one time you met him. The way she spoke of him was vastly different than the man you remembered. She is a kind woman, and you suspect if Thor truly desired her, they would meet again. If Thor were to come you reason, all your want would have been to know where your god has gone. Why he had abandoned you.

Jane said it was Loki who attacked. Loki, who leveled the city and nearly killed Thor and many others. You knew she is telling the truth, but you tell yourself she must be mistaken.   
This is the second lie you make yourself believe. 

Jane and you exchange information. You are not a master of all things, but you understand her studies, her drive. You decided you needed to see Thor, if just to know- where was your god. 

A year passes, and Jane e-mailed you. She was being send to someplace for her own safety. Loki was on earth, and apparently had a weapon of mass destruction in hand. Later, you saw the video of Germany. 

He was different. His face was sunken, his eyes no longer that bright green alight with tricks and mischief. They were blue, empty and hollow. His voice is not the same. It is ragged, foreign. You knew he was using magic, but without seeing him you could not tell why. 

New York- he arrived in a wake of chaos and fire. He was every inch the god your people feared. Aliens poured from the sky and when you see him atop the tower, your heart freezes. His magic hid his pain, and it resonated in you. It is his magic that protects you, his magic that lives inside of you. The aliens were easy to kill with a gun. You are over a thousand years old. Guns are easy. His dagger took the place of the gun when bullets run dry. As the Avengers, Thor amongst them fought the Alien horde, you reached the top of Stark tower, your god imbedded into the floor. 

Tears pour from your eyes as you run to him, but his voice stops you.  
“Leave me.” You refused, taking a step closer.  
“You were supposed to find your happiness. Now leave.” You ignored him again, going to his side and gently removing the debris around him, attempting to free his body.  
“You-“  
“Am I not your priestess?” You asked him, and he did not speak.  
“Do I not owe you my life? You are my god, the one who gifted me with magic and life eternal.” His eyes are green and you cannot help but cry. You felt pain in your heart. He had changed, and you did not know why.  
“Please, little one.” He reached up, brushing away your tears. “You are to be free, be happy. I sent you to explore-“  
“I did. I sailed and rode and walked thousands of miles, but I kept going back.” You kissed his hand, and the action draws a sharp breath from him.   
“I love you-“  
“No.” His voice was stern. “Do not say that. You cannot- I forbid it.” He lifted himself up and your heart felt like it was being crushed.  
“Thor and the others will arrive soon. Leave. If they find you here, you will be taken to Asgard with me.” His green eyes are full of pain and regret-yet he would not say why.

“Odin spared your life because you are good, but if you are seen with me, he will not do so again. You are too good for a monster like me, you deserve better than a god like me.” He smiled at you, and when you say his name, you find yourself in the temple. He sent you home.

That night, you scream to the heavens. He is your god, and that is your choice to make, no other’s.

*** 

Jane never learned of your encounter with Loki at the Tower. You kept it secret. But it is not for others. SHEILD saw the recoding, as did the other avengers.  
As did Thor.

Thor came to the temple, your home in the states abandoned. He smiles softly, and asks only to be heard. He tells you of Odin’s threat. That Loki could not visit Midgard and style himself a god any longer. He was to abandon the temple, abandon you. Odin forbade him from seeking you out, and locked him away so he would never arrive at your destined time.

Thor told you of the incidents in New Mexico. Of Loki finding out his heritage, Odin’s lies. You cried as Thor spoke, but to his credit, the god of Thunder did not approach you. Loki had let go, giving up hope and falling to the void. Something took him, twisted him. Hurt him. Thor worried for Loki, and you could hear the helplessness in the thunderer’s voice. He loved his brother. 

“Where is he now?” You asked. Thor frowned, telling you of Loki’s sentence. Imprisonment for life. You looked at Thor and left him at the temple doors. You returned soon enough, a soft wool blanket of gold and green in your arms. You handed it to Thor.  
“This is my offering to my god. Please see that it reaches him.” Thor smiled and asked how you could stand by him. You look at the temple and think back to Frigga’s words and your reply.  
“I owe him more than one life.”   
“He will never return to Mid- earth. You will never see him again.” You laugh, thinking of his smile.  
“He is my god of fire and chaos. Lies, mischief- I have faith in him Thor.”

Thor seemed confused, but then the large man laughed as well. “Truly, he does not deserve you.”  
The thunderer leaves with your offering.

*** 

A year passed, and you knew SHEILD had been keeping tabs on you. The director had summoned you once, interrogated you. But Thor had left them with a message of good will. You were not an enemy. Yet Fury did not trust you, and to your knowledge at the time, neither did the avengers. Later, you’d find that Fury had the video edited, the avengers had no idea you existed. A small miracle.

Still, you hope. Your god is imprisoned, yet you had faith.   
A faith shattered when Thor arrives at the temple, his face an expression of loss. In his arms was the blanket you wove for Loki when you had been a child. It was worn and old, yet still intact. Loki had kept your childish offering.  
The knowledge ripped your heart out and buried it in the earth. 

He died defending his home, a father and family that lied to him. He died to save his brother and the woman his brother loved. A woman who left him, and he had left her. Your god had died for others. He had died and left you alone.

*** 

You did not notice at first. He is dressed in an entirely black suit, a shabby dressed Odin in a wheelchair in front of him. You had come to New York to meet with Coulson, offering insight to a possible magic artifact. Yet there your god stands, oblivious. Odin is in the wheelchair, feeding doves of all things in central park. You want to say something. But you can’t.

It is Odin who notices you smiling and waving you over. Only then did Loki notice.   
“Child.” Odin says, motioning you to sit on the bench next to his chair. “It has been so long. I was afraid then, afraid what might happen. I am sorry. I am so sorry.” Odin reaches out to you and you take his hand. You understand. He kept Loki from you. He feared his own son, he feared what a god among mortals might do.  
“Odin-“ Loki starts, but the Allfather scoffs at him.  
“She is so good my son. Look at her. Isn’t she the image of a goddess?” Your face heats as you look helplessly to your god, who smirks at you.  
“She always had been.” Loki’s words cut you deep, and Odin’s voice stops the tears.  
“He is a fool you know. You deserve better than him.” You blink. Why do people think such things? Loki saved your life. He gave you a home, a purpose. He gave you a life beyond anything you could have dreamed.

“Allfather.” You say. “All my life, I have been told that I deserve better, that I am too god for him.” You feel heat in your face, warmth in your chest.  
“With all do respect, isn’t it my choice to who I will love?” Odin’s eyes sparkles in the sunlight, and a raven sitting in a tree caws.  
“You love him then?” Loki has begun to stutter, a protest on his lips.  
“I always have.” You look to your god then, and for the first time, you realize he is not hiding behind smiles and false sincerity. His green eyes glow with longing, and you nod your head at him.  
“I love, him, in spite of his forbidding of it.”

Odin laughs and tells Loki to take him home. The god, your god looks at you and you understand then.   
Wait a while longer. He will return.

That night, he takes you to the temple and asks you for the truth.  
“Do you love me? Knowing what I am? What I have done?” 

You hesitate. Your heart is thundering and you fear he will leave you. But if he does- you will wait for him. You always will wait for him.  
“When I was a child, alone and cold, I prayed for a god to save me, offering up my very essence at his altar. He saved my life, giving me hope for a future. When I was alone, he came to me, offering me a home, a shelter and purpose. When I was hurt he protected me. I feared my god, but through my fear I saw I and no reason to feel such. My god was kind, and he cared for me, even while all my people scorned him. I fell in love with him, and vowed I would remain loyal to him. I would have faith in him for as long as I lived.”

“Do you have faith in me still?” He whispered, reaching up, cupping your face in his hands.  
“Always.”  
“Even when I lie, when I hurt you, when I deny what we are?”  
“What are we Loki?’ You ask him. “I was your priestess, but no one comes to worship. I was your explored, yet there is nothing left to explore. What am I now to you?”   
Loki’s smile grows as he lifts you up and sets you on his altar.

“My love.” His kiss is sweet and you cry in his arms. “My Sigyn.”

He will leave you again, you know this. You know he will do things that will cause you pain. Yet he will love you. He will care for you. And even if the world would doubt him you will have faith.  
You love your god, and you will always have faith in him.

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this very early in the morning so forgive any mistakes. If ypu'd like to beta me, LMK.


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